


a living sacrifice, holy and pleasing

by sprx77



Category: Naruto
Genre: Although all cultists are off screen, And now you have an eldritch demon gf, And you can't violate me if I'm willing, At the start, BAMF Yamanaka Ino, But jokes on them you're DTF, Cultists, Demon Summoning, Eldritch, F/F, Ha losers, Human Sacrifice, Just warning because Ino's thought process is a lil dark, Kidnapping, Lovecraftian, Meet-Cute, Mental bonds, Multi, Polyamory, Spot the Hidan, That's not a monster that's a datemate, When they try to sacrifice you to a demon, Willing Sacrifice, Yoooo alright let me just, and Isaribi is??? So down for a cute girlfriend, and the whole "sacrifice someone to a tentacle monster" has inherent dubby vibes, because Ino looks at the tentacle monster and thinks, but no dubcon occurs, due to kidnapping, eldritch abomination isaribi, instead of a meal, snacc not snack, so cultists kidnap Ino and are trying to sacrifice her
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2021-01-13 08:44:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21241346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sprx77/pseuds/sprx77
Summary: The cultists' plan, as near as she could figure, through sweat and desperation etc, was to summon some big bad ghouly ghouly and have it sex her to death. Maybe her amazing body would sate its carnal appetite for another three blood moons, or some shit.Thepointis:“Hey.” Ino says, less a sacrifice and more a saunteringbabe,if she does say so herself. “Heard you want your world rocked.”





	a living sacrifice, holy and pleasing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Memories_of_the_Shadows](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Memories_of_the_Shadows/gifts).

> My notes are basically in the tags but this is for the Halloween Bang Sloaners came up with on Blackkat's discord server. I volunteered to pick up a fill when someone dropped out and by weird coincidence got my babe Sachi
> 
> Alternate summary: The tentacle sex is heavily implied
> 
> Quote is literally biblical which amuses me greatly

She takes a breath, thankful that she and her pastel badass girlfriend have an _open _relationship. It’s not ideal to be unable to discuss things first, of course, but even the most upset Hinata that Ino can _imagine _would never begrudge her what she _had_ to do to survive.

Or how she had to handle the situation, in order to live with that survival.

Still, it’s some measure of _easier _to look the abyss in the mouth when she doesn’t have issues of fidelity and betrayal to worry about, so Ino takes that break and runs with it. Truthfully it’s the literal least of her worries right now, but thinking of Hinata in general gives her strength.

She doesn’t have to do anything but get through this-- and be able to look herself in the mirror afterwards. At the end of the day that’s all Hinata needs from her, too, so Ino takes herself away from the fear and doubt with memories of Sai’s abs under her touch, the soft smell of Sakura’s hair, the way Hinata-- _her _Hinata, Ino’s Hinata, the one who had come out of her shell step by stuttering step until she was baring her teeth and _running _\-- weaves through “Team 7” like that one Eevee evolution colored like a trans pride flag.

It’s less terrifying to be dealing with a potential datemate than some abomination that wants to eat her in the _not _-fun way.

Ino is banged up, bruised up, blood on her lip. She has in the last twenty-four hours been cold-cocked by the butt of a gun, rolled out of a moving car, and killed something like twelve honest-to-god cultists wearing big wool robes. She’s tired. She aches. For the better part of that conflict she’d been too pissed to be afraid, letting rage and adrenaline guide her, and now it’s that negativity that she resolves to shed like a stiff coat, stepping out of it and leaving any lingering undercurrent of fear behind her.

Like one of those ice skating videos where they leave a veritable iron maiden of Big Floofy Dress behind, in the center of the ring. It’s the Big Floofy Dress of Fear and Rage and Ino is tired, yeah, but she limps forward anyway. She doesn’t not gulp. Her fear is in the metaphorically highly starched tension she left behind when she rolled her shoulders several footsteps ago. She imagines it behind her now as a tangible thing, retaining its shape, as dark as any of the cloaks of the earlier cultists.

The reasons she’s in this stupid mess, really. There’s blood from her own scraped mouth on her chin, road rash in some truly unfortunate places, and her hands shake a little at the frustration and other emotions from that one cultist who had _kept getting back up_. The one she killed over and over to no avail.

And while she’d choked on steadily rising panic and emptied clip after clip into his laughing, crawling visage, the others had regrouped and gotten her from behind.

Now she’s in the creepiest room-- chamber?-- imaginable.

There are honset to fucking god torches on the wall.

Fuck it. Ino cocks a hip. She’s pretty enough to be a sacrifice-- though definitely not a virgin. Didn’t some ancient cultures used to sacrifice the prettiest people instead, virginity notwithstanding? Granted, she has no idea how the modern judochristian notion of virginity played out with the ancient practice of tossing the village hottie into a volcano, so--

Ino girds her loins, lassos her thoughts.

She has a soft, soft girl waiting on her and while Sai owes her a shopping trip, Sakura owes her something far more lewd.

Fuck, after the day she’s had, _Sasuke _is going to suck it up and do something nice for her. Their whole entire friend group of datemate’s datemates are going to pamper her until these bruises are a thing of the past.

But first she’s got to make it through this. And more importantly, she’s going to _not let herself be traumatized_.

She puts a hand on the cocked hip, approximately two meters from the being summoned in here with her. Unfortunately that description disregards a lot of the summoning _process,_ and Ino has both rope burn up her entire forearms, and sticky cuts to the back of her hands that sting like crazy, to show for it. Still, the heavy magic that begs for an anime opera soundtrack with, like, harpsichords and shit, is like a miasma in the room, a weighty cloud of rolling intent that she’s struggling to shrug off.

Her eyes want to slide away from the forming figure in front of her, ostensibly turning into something humanoid, and when it settles down into something relievingly datemate shaped Ino feels appropriately grateful.

It’s only-- part of her animal hindbrain hides behind her own spine and shrieks _too many teeth._

But there are no teeth. There are even only two eyes, even if the girl-- girl!!-- across from her looks dazed and surprised. Her lips curl into a smile, still no teeth to be seen, but the impression of teeth is with Ino. Teeth and too many eyes.

She stomps her foot, shaking herself out of it.

She dates someone who dates someone who dates _Uchiha Sasuke,_ okay, an eldritch horror wearing a cute girl’s skin is a step up. 

(Alright, it’s possible she hasn’t forgiven the love of Naruto’s life for breaking tiny baby Sakura’s heart back in the day, no matter how often her best friend currently rails him. No amount of hatefucking will make her not want to punch him on a good day.

Best friends hold grudges, okay? And Sakura will always be her best friend.)

The cultists' plan, as near as she could figure, through sweat and desperation etc, was to summon some big bad ghouly ghouly and have it sex her to death. Maybe her amazing body would sate its carnal appetite for another three blood moons, or some shit.

The _point _is:

“Hey.” Ino says, less a sacrifice and more a sauntering _babe,_ if she does say so herself. “Heard you want your world rocked.”

And surely, what fucking criteria does _she _meet that none of the cultists did? Why couldn’t they volunteer to fuck their own abomination god and receive, like, eldritch blessings? No, it’s got to be an unwilling sacrifice to be _murdered _by _snu snu._

Christ.

Phenomenal cosmic powers poured into a _reasonable shaped human woman _is so much more than Ino would thought to ask for, if she’d thought to bargain in the first place, tied up during all the chanting before the fuckers fled like cowards and mist rolled in.

The being before her-- the woman, if only in shape alone-- giggles. The torches flicker hard and shivers rock up Ino’s back.

Ino tries to keep anything off her face, but the girl notices, and then she frowns. For a moment apologies bubble like blood on Ino’s lips, the girl frowns harder, and then, just like that--

The oppressive air of the room that had been pushing in on her vanishes. Ino stumbles under the sudden freedom, lightheaded from the sudden cessation of mental strain. Soft strong arms catch her, so like Hinata’s-- like Sakura’s-- that it hurts.

She wants to be _home._

But she’s here, so she musters a smile for the girl, who caught her when she certainly didn’t have to.

Wide eyes look back at her, black ringed by shifting tides-- a blue dark and light by turns, like the water playing in shadows in the beachside cave she and Shikamaru and Choji had played in every summer of their childhood. It’s a memory of sun and laughter that warms her, here, in this subterranean dungeon.

“Hello,” She says, soft and languid in this woman’s arms. “I’m Ino.”

The girl sucks in air like she’s startled, though her expression doesn’t change. It’s if anything _wondering,_ like Hinata’s when Ino wears something particularly amazing, and pink dusts Ino's cheek at the unspoken praise.

She moves, deftly winding her arms around the girl’s neck, pressing in close. Unsure hands drop to her waist in reaction, barely touching her now that Ino has her feet sure underneath her.

“I--” The girl’s throat moves, but the word that comes out warbles. She frowns, but thankfully the air between them stays easy. She clears her throat. Ino tries to paint something encouraging on her own face.

“I cannot remember _speaking _before,” She says in wonder. She raises a hand, eying it in the torchlight, but makes no move to leave Ino’s embrace. Ino looks at the hand, too. It’s dainty, pale. Human, as far as her eyes can ascertain.

Ino snakes one arm down and twines her fingers through the girl’s.

“What can I call you?” She asks, braver than she feels.

“You gave me your name,” The girl acknowledges, eyes still blown. “You gave me your _name _like it was nothing. I... have many names. Many forms.”

Ino nods.

“I like this form.” She confesses. “You... designed it well. Your skin is nice. It holds all your organs in, and everything.”

It’s a recycled _Welcome to Nightvale _quote and she would smack herself if she had the free hand for smacking.

Surprisingly, charmingly, the girl blushes. It’s more purple than pink, complementing the blue-ish tint to her messy bob, and Ino can’t help but grin, pleased.

“Thank you.” The girl says. “You may call me... Isaribi.”

Power shudders through the room, the shadows becoming thicker for a moment.

_Isaribi._

It suits.

Ino brings their clasped hands nearer, between them, almost surprised when it works. She has a very Twilight-esque moment where she expects an immovable statue instead of giving flesh. It’s probably a measure of Isaribi’s _otherness _than her own adolescent heart, though.

Her grown ass woman, really really gay heart is beating fast. Isaribi is _pretty._

And dangerous, even if she’s going out of her way to feel soft.

It’s a heady combination and Ino feels drunk on it. Is this what those beautiful sacrifices felt, meeting a naked god at the ritual alter? Laid out and _devoured,_ beautiful and worshiped by something inhumanly strong, inhumanly perfect, inhumanly pretty?

“If it’s _this _you need,” Ino says, wetting her lip, sliding one thigh forward to watch the pretty girl gasp. “Then I’m your girl. But... if you need the blood and murder, may I direct you to the stupid and _rude _people who summoned you? I’m pretty sure they’re upstairs and, let’s be honest, after I rock your world they won’t be expecting either of us. Easy pickings.”

Isarbi tilted her head. For a moment Ino thinks she’s miscalculated, and then she tilts her head back and _laughs._ It’s warbling and triple-toned, once again speaking of_teeth._

“Oh, you are a wonder.” Isaribi confesses, caressing Ino’s cheek with the back of their clasped hands. “I have never had a _willing _sacrifice.”

“Does that change... much?” Ino swallows, trying to calm her racing heart.

“Oh, lover. It changes _everything._ I think I shall stay in this sphere for... quite some time.” She moves their hands away, leaning in slowly.

It’s a question and Ino says _yes _the best way she knows how, leaning up and into it. It’s Ino who initiates the soft press of lips, Ino who steps closer until their fronts are blurred together in the delicious press of bodies.

Isaribi is _quite _taller than her and it sends a little thrill through her. The woman pulls back a little, still looking amazed by Ino, still looking _delighted._ She smiles and her teeth are unnaturally straight, dazzlingly white.

She’s _powerful _in a way that makes Ino want to be devoured in the _good _way, makes her want to take Isaribi apart piece by piece and put her back together as _Ino’s _in every way, kiss every last bit of her until she knows who she belongs to.

It’s a rush and the low sound Isaribi makes when Ino rocks her thigh _just so _goes straight to her head, giddy.

“Let me, let me.” Ino mutters, dragging her hand from neck to shoulder to pressing flat against a sternum. For a moment there is no heartbeat beneath her palm and then there _is,_ Isaribi creating one from nothing, creating herself a heart just to make it race for Ino.

“Let me show you how _good _we can be,” Ino pleads, _so _ready for this. Her clothes feel heavy, annoying, itchy and in the way.

In a moment, they’re gone. It’s then that she notices Isaribi isn’t wearing anything at all.

Had she ever been? It’s absurd, but Ino can’t remember one way or another. What she does know is the heart under her hand is fast and alive, warm and racing like the one in Ino’s own breast, and Isaribi has creamy flesh for _miles._

Not literally. Thank every god.

Her breasts taper into hardened purpish peaks and Ino damn near _salivates._ Isaribi’s free hand cups the back of her head and Ino needs no more encouragement, dipping down to _taste._ It’s not as far down as it should be, actually, and again realization of how _tall _this woman is thrills her.

“_Ah!_” Isaribi throws her head back, arching into Ino’s mouth, and it’s everything yes. She holds onto the goddess’ hip with one hand and uses it as leverage to rock her thigh a little, get it a little _wet._

“So warm,” Isaribi gasps. “So _human._”

Her hand is less guiding and more support, petting the spilled wheat of Ino’s unbound hair. She hums around one nipple, mouths the side of one gorgeous mound and delights in the space between them, switching focus to keep things relatively equal.

“Let me put you in _heels._” Ino mumbles into silky flesh, aching for a bed, a meadow, anything. She’d settle for beach sand, even knowing what a pain in the ass that is. “Long black dresses, nothing underneath. We could dance for hours at a fancy party. Nobody would be able to look _away._”

“From you, maybe.” Isaribi shivers under her touch, the breath hitting wet skin. “The best kind of torture, seeing you in something so fine, something almost as beautiful as you are. Everyone wanting, no one able to _touch._ No one but me.”

A moment’s hesitation for that, but before she has a chance to be wary, before she can tense up, Isaribi pulls her up with a startled expression on her otherworldly gorgeous face.

“Oh,” She says, soft, like she’s been punched in the gut. “_Oh,_ beautiful!”

Ino breathes out a relieved laugh, happy because she could _never _apologize for her loves. They give her strength in hardship, keep her happy, keep her going. She feels Isaribi’s searching, almost-not-quite in her mind.

Feels the other woman’s awestruck wonder when she finds what must be representations of all Ino’s datemates. A pale shimmery silver light forms in her mind’s eye, what _must _be a representation of her connection her to Hinata.

But that’s not all, of course.

A vibrant unflinching gold, tying her to Sakura. A line of sunfire, reaching out to Naruto, braided through with purple shadow-flame-- Sasuke. There’s a deep, nonlinear curve of ink that represents Sai, most definitely, and parallel to it the gunmetal gray of Shikamaru.

(Beyond all of that, datemate connections shift to friends, to family, to everyone she’s connected to by any margin. The bold lavender of Choji, the scattered peppercorn of Asuma, soft, indestructible white ribbon for her father, a line of sterling fine chain to Ibiki, it goes on and on and on).

“_Beautiful,_” Isaribi repeats, and then they’re back in the dungeon, but Ino has never felt stronger. Never felt safer.

“Look,” She says, gathering up Isaribi’s limp hands in her own. “It’s not much, yet, but--”

She concentrates, stumbles with a little help back into that trick of light in her mindscape where everyone has _ties _to her, bright reflections of their relationships. In the back, in the far corner, but somehow the forefront, there’s a razor thin strand even now thickening to thread thickness.

It’s painted like nebulae, like starstuff, eldritch and almost _cooing _with happiness to be born.

They are _jerked _out of the mindscape and Isaribi kisses her, grabbing her face with both hands. She peppers kiss after kiss onto Ino’s laughing lips, smiling so bright it hurts to look at. Ino closes her eyes instead of looking away.

“Tell me about them,” Isaribi begs. “The lights, your loves, let me _know _them.”

She speaks like a being of the dark, desperate for a beam of sunlight even if it might burn. Like someone trapped in the shadows for so long they’ve forgotten what the light is like, or maybe never saw it in the first place. Technically, Ino realizes, that might _literally be the case._

“I’ll do you one better,” Ino kisses the eldritch being folded into the shape of a woman, speaks against her lips. “I’ll let you see them yourself. You’re made of stars, I know you are. The void between stars. Stay here, stay with me. Let’s kill everyone of those bastards keeping us here in the dark and step out into the day together.”

It burns between them full of promise, full of excitement, full of hope.

“_Yes._” Isaribi breathes into her mouth. “_Yes._”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on tumblr as definitelynotaminion if anyone wants to chat! This isn't my favorite of my works but I'm fond of it anyway, and it was a slightly rushed piece. However the recipient seems to like it well enough so I'm satisfied!


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